Bad Day At Black Rock
by Rosegirl94
Summary: Dean needs to start thinking before acting.


Title: Bad Day At Black Rock

Fandom: Supernatural

Author: Rosegirl94

Characters: Dean, John, Sam, Bobby

Warnings: Language

English is not my native language. Many thanks to Madi Holmes for giving me so much advice.

Summary: Dean needs to start thinking before acting.

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Unfortunately. Just the idea is mine.

Reviews are loved and appreciated. :)

Dean felt a sudden pain going through his head and angrily turned around. There stood his dad who had just slapped him around the head.  
"Ouch."  
"What are you doing here? You were supposed to be home like an hour ago. Sam frantically called me back from my hunt and you are still two years short of the legal drinking age! This ID is for emergencies only, you know that. Now come on before I make a scene."  
"When do we ever apply to the rules? I had drinks before and you didn't care!"  
"You are applying to my rules and that is it, boy. It is something different to get a drink from me or Bobby than buying one in a public place and maybe call for unwanted attention!"  
Dean rolled his eyes and turned his head towards his glass. He was about to take a sip when John slapped his hand and the drink fell to the floor. The bar was so crowded nobody really paid attention to it but Dean still flushed.  
"Now how isn't that a scene?" He mumbled.  
"I want you to pay for that drink, go to the bathroom and wash your face and then be in the car in five. Should you not be there, I swear to God boy, I am going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out. Understood?"  
"Yessir." Dean said quietly.  
"Good."

Being outside, John lit a cigarette, after he quickly called Sam to tell him he found his stupid brother. John wanted to give up smoking a long time ago but with Dean around it was harder than he thought it would be. After he had finished it, he checked his watch. Fifteen minutes had passed and there was still no sight of Dean. He went inside, furiously, and checked the bathroom. There it was. An open window. How stupid the owner must have been to have put such a big window in his restrooms. People could get really drunk and then leave without paying. Just like Dean did.  
John ran to his car and started the engine. There was only one direction Dean could have gone without being noticed by John and he was just about a quarter of an hour ahead. That boy was fast on his legs but John had the impala.  
While driving down the main road he kept looking on both sides when finally something struck his eyes. He hit the brakes and parked the car at the roadside. And there he was – Dean lying on the ground between some trees. John couldn't see his face but it surely didn't look like a healthy position.  
"Dean?" John shouted. He was by Dean's side in a second and carefully turned him around. His back was soaked in blood.  
"Dammit, boy."  
He started slapping Dean's cheeks, softly at first, but Dean didn't react to it. He increased the strength and was desperately trying to get him back.  
"Dean." He yelled again and to the last slap Dean reacted. His eyelids fluttered and then slowly opened.  
"Dad?" He asked confused.  
"Yeah, right here. You scared me, I thought you were... Never mind. What the hell are you doing and why are you bleeding?"  
"Oh 'bout that..." Dean weakly smiled. He looked so pale.  
"I drive you to a hospital and you are going to tell me everything in the car."  
John carefully hauled Dean over his shoulder who gave no sign of being aware of the situation at all. He laid Dean down on his stomach and quickly got behind the wheel.

"Did the hunt go wrong?"  
"Seems like it..." Dean remarked.  
"Dean, watch your tone!" John barked.  
"Cut me some slack. I am probably dying and the last thing you did then was yelling." Dean meant that to be a joke but being in his state and his weak voice, John was more worried than amused.  
"I mean how come you didn't notice you were that hurt?" John asked in a gentler voice.  
"I did! At least I noticed the pain. Didn't know about the blood..."  
"But then I don't understand-" And then it hit John. Dean used the alcohol as painkillers. That stupid SOB!  
"You run out of painkillers?"  
"Sam hit his head the other day and I gave him the last ones. They are no good anyway."  
"'Cause you are used to them. Damn it, Dean. Why didn't you call me?"  
"You were on a hunt."  
"Yeah, and what is your excuse? Sam called me, extremely worried, and plead me to find you!"  
"Sammy okay?"  
"Yeah, unlike you." John sighed, not knowing what to add. After a few minutes he noticed it was too quiet.  
"Dean? Dean?! Answer me, boy." Dean didn't respond. John was desperate and immediately hit the brake.  
"Dad!" Dean weakly stated after the sudden, uncomfortable stopping.  
"Just wanted to get a reaction from you. Sorry... Almost there anyway, pal. I can already see it from here. Hang on!"  
"Kay."

***

Dean was brought into the emergency room immediately. He suffered from severe blood loss, a small concussion and they had to close the wound with nine stitches. They wanted to keep him for a few days to make sure that he reacted positively to the blood transfusion and the wound wouldn't get infected. Dean would have none of it. After he woke up, he started being his old self and John couldn't feel anything except relief.

"Dad, please. Can't I just rest at home?" Dean tried to pull out his IVs but John slapped his hand away.  
"No, Dean. Your doctor said that you were "that"close to dying. Thirty minutes more and you'd be dead. All because you're too proud to admit you were hurt."  
"Dad, it was a simple salt and burn case," Dean replied, gently stretching, flexing his hand, trying to look relaxed.

"I didn't know there were two ghosts and that the dude was going to hulk out after I 'killed' his wife."  
"This isn't about you getting hurt, Dean. I'm talking about you not telling anyone where you went and then thinking that alcohol is a cure for a concussion."  
"It worked. I didn't feel anything."  
John cuffed Dean's head lightly.  
"Dude, concussion."  
"Oh, I know, Dean, that's why you're staying here and not at home."  
"But Dad.." Dean whined petulantly, still trying to get comfortable.  
"Don't want you to bitch around the whole time." John joked.  
"I can leave this hospital anytime. I am an adult."  
"Sure, just walk over to that door without puking, and I'll personally escort you out. But don't start whining when Sam lectures you for being stupid and irresponsible when your headache gets worse, and I won't give you any painkillers, because-"  
"Kay, Dad. I get it," Dean said darkly.  
"Good, Kid," John kissed Dean's forehead and Dean blushed.  
"Dude, I am way too old."  
"You just keep telling yourself just that."  
"That's not cool."  
John chuckled as he pulled out a little present from his jacket.  
"Hells, yeah, M&Ms!" Dean's eyes sparked. John nodded, watched his son change before him. Dean's face mirroring his toddler years, all squishy face, big eyes and ears and hair fluff as he plopped one M&M after another into his mouth.  
"Eat'em fast. Sam's on his way, called me to tell you he's royally pissed. He also called Bobby when he couldn't get me. So now Bobby's coming too," John grimaced.  
"Aw man, they're just going to yell at me and -"  
John started laughing when the two of them appeared at the door. Bobby grumbled, "Idijt," as Sam barreled onto Dean's bed, hugging him hard.  
"Watch the arm!" Dean yelped, trying to keep still, to not move his arm.  
"You scared me so damn much, Jerk."  
"I know, I am sorry ," Dean replied, finally turning into the embrace.  
Bobby made a gesture to clip Dean, but John just held his hand up.  
"Concussion," he mumbled and Bobby gruffed out a laugh.  
"He still deserves it."  
"I know, I know, I screwed up. I'm sorry, okay?" Dean said.  
"I just have one question, Dean," Bobby started. "Your dad said you were out in the woods. Why?"  
John looked hard at Dean. Dean looked down.  
"Yeah, Dean, why did you run away?"  
"I... screwed up and didn't want to disappoint you..."  
"That's not the real reason," Sam angrily breathed into Dean's shoulder, knowing his brother's tells.  
"Okay, but if you laugh, you're all dead as soon as I get out...  
"I...don't like needles and this"- he pointed at the IV in his vein, couldn't look at it, "give me the creeps. I knew Dad would bring me in when he noticed the concussion."  
John grew red, held his breath. Sam started, laughed, and looked away. Bobby shook his head, looked at him, narrowed his eyes.

"Dean... that's the dumbest thing you've ever said in a long list of dumb things."  
"I DIDN'T KNOW I WAS REALLY DYING!"  
"How can you, the Great and Powerful Dean Winchester, be afraid of needles?" Sam sniggered.  
"You all suck, you know that."  
"Fine, son," John finally exhaled. "You're going to stay here for the night, and I'll parole you out tomorrow. After you promise me to only use your ID for emergencies and to start thinking before you act."  
"You're never getting out now, Dean!" Sam chirped up, quickly ducking as Dean slapped his elbow. "You'll always be stuck in here forever."  
Dean finally ignored his brother, tried to ignore the IV. "Dude, that drink made me think weird things-"  
John pursed his lips, hiding a grin, "you shoulda thought of that before drinking with a head wound." John knew that nineteen year old Dean would never learn. But he loved his son at any age, and had the patience to wait out the hormones and stupidity and recklessness and immortality.  
They all stayed for several hours as Dean narrated the pissed ghost-husband, his first solo hunt, and finally went into too much concussion-induced detail about the hot bartender before falling asleep. Safe and secure next to his family.


End file.
